


Love Lost

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, M/M, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-14
Updated: 2007-03-14
Packaged: 2018-09-30 10:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10161368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: One-Shot  Harry receives tickets to see the play he loves, Equus.  What will happen when the lead actor turns out to be someone he can't forget?  **Implied M-Preg only -- blink and you will miss it all together**





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**Disclaimer** The boys aren't mind, neither is the play, but if they were... ohhh the things I would do with them!

 

_**Present Day** _

 

“Did you get the tickets?” He was bouncing, literally bouncing on his feet in excitement as his best friend smile showed his first excitement in what seemed like years. “Don’t look at me like that! Did you get them?”

“Yes, Harry, I got them. Three tickets, front row center, opening night. You don’t want to know what I spent though, quite embarrassing to be honest.” Harry’s response was a literal ‘whoop’ of joy followed by a crushing hug to his best friend, Ron Weasley. Ron’s wife, Hermione, watched the spectacle with a grin on her face. It had been her suggestion to invite Harry to this play. She had gifted him the manuscript years earlier when his relationship with Draco went south.

Harry had spent so many hours reading the book, that she actually replaced it the past Christmas. Along with the promotional poster for the upcoming play. She didn’t even care who was playing the lead, as long as she could see Harry happy again. Apparently it worked.

Ron, still being squeezed by the smaller man, finally let out a laugh and hugged him back as the excitement leaked out of Harry like magic. His smile was infectious and his enthusiasm was, well… quite over-done if the truth be known. And all it had taken was three tickets to the play, Equus for opening night.

When Harry finally released Ron, he turned and swept Hermione up in another bone-crushing hug, spinning her around in a circle. Years ago, Ron had learned that Harry preferred men in his bed and smiled at his original jealousy over his then girlfriend and his best friend’s sly looks and hugs. Glad for the days when he could just relax and let them be themselves, as long as he wasn’t expected to always show that level of emotion. He thought he would have had a breakdown if he had been expected to show that much…enthusiasm… all the time.

Harry finally released Hermione and kissed her cheek. She actually blushed before asking to see the tickets. Ron sighed but gave them up. Harry snatched them before she could reach out. Smiling he looked at them, then sobered. “I wish…” 

“Don’t go there, mate. It won’t do you a bit of good to keep living in the past. We will all three go to this play and enjoy it, then go to a pub and discuss it. Well, I will drink and you two will pick it apart scene by scene.” After a pause, he added, “I was able to get back stage passes for you to meet the actors… if you are interested of course.”

Harry looked down again, there on the ticket was clearly stated “EQUUS, Opening Night, Tuesday, February 27, 2007at the Gielgud Theatre, London. ADMIT ONE ROW A SEAT 7(Seven)” Flipping to the back of the ticket, it continued “1(one) Backstage Pass at the conclusion of the play.” The other two tickets were seats eight and nine and had the same message.

They were going. Harry was going to see the play that he had been able to lose himself in after Draco had left him.

 

_**Lost in the Memories  
** _

 

As Harry returned to the flat he once shared with Draco, he sat in front of the warm fire and found himself lost in the memories.

Draco and Harry had made their peace shortly before the final battle. Harry had confided in Ron and Hermione that he was gay and after he finished with school and the battle, he planned to go to Muggle London and live a quiet life. He thought he would write or perhaps try his hand at acting on stage. Anything different enough to throw off the Hero Worship he had known since he was eleven.

One night, while the evenings were cooler, but not cold, Harry sat atop the Astronomy Tower. Wondering what his life would be like if he actually succeeded in killing Voldemort. Fear combined with confidence. Wariness combined with Gryffindorishness. Taking a deep breath and realizing that if he did win, he would be granted any life he wanted except being ignored by the Wizarding population, he thought of his plans after graduation. They were not exactly sound, but he thought that perhaps he could survive anyway. Maybe meet some sweet bloke and settle down in a flat or small cottage. Maybe he could have a dog as he had never had one.

Being lost in thought, he did not hear the door open and close. He did hear the crunch of a footstep behind him though. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. He didn’t want to argue or pick at the intruder, he would just leave quietly. However, as fate usually does, when he stood and turned, he was met by Draco Malfoy. They just stared at one another for a long time before speaking.

“Hello Harry.” Harry did a double take, _Did Draco Malfoy just call him Harry?’_

“Uhm, err… hello… Draco. I’ll just be going so you can have some peace.” Regardless of the first name basis they had just encountered, Harry did not relish the thought of listening to Draco harass him. 

Harry took two steps towards the door when he heard a sound very much like a sigh, followed by a soft “Please wait…” and he did. He paused without turning to look at the other boy. A stronger voice came with the second sentence, “I came here to find you.”

Draco moved away from Harry and sat on a bench looking at the night sky. A shiver went through Harry as he heard the words. “You see, there are things I want you to know about me, and even though you may not care, I still think you could give me a few moments to listen.”

Harry turned slowly to the blonde, but did not move to sit next to him. The words seemed to tumble out of Draco’s mouth. “I don’t want to be like my father. I received a letter from him, telling me that I had to take the mark over the holidays and how proud I should be to be welcomed into the ranks. I never want to see that…thing… again. I don’t want to betray you.”

Harry’s feet seemed to move of their own accord, he sat next to Draco. Quietly, so as not disturb the diatribe he listened. “I have hated you for so long. You always win everything. I don’t know why anyone thinks you won’t defeat the Dark Lord. You win, period. I am so confused right now. The only clear thing I have in my life is that knowledge. You will win this battle.”

Draco paused and turned his head to face Harry. Harry’s breath hitched in his throat as he saw the piercing grey eyes staring into his soul. “I will do anything I have to do to prove to you that I am sincere.”

Draco sunk off the bench and kneeled on the gravelled roof, still looking at Harry. “Forgive me for believing my father. Forgive me for ever thinking that you are less than wonderful. Forgive me, Harry, for never allowing you to see the real me…”

Harry’s response was to lean over and kiss the man on the forehead. Draco closed his eyes and sighed. When Harry straightened again, Draco lay his head on Harry’s lap and talked. Harry, seemingly without realizing it, began to stroke the perfect blonde hair. Noting somewhere in the un-functioning part of his brain that Draco’s hair was much softer than he first thought. Blinking away the images, he listened to Draco talk.

They talked until dawn. Draco occasionally wiping tears and Harry answering a question, but mostly, he just listened to Draco’s admissions. 

That had been the beginning.

One battle with a Dark Lord and several peaceful years later, it had ended. Not quietly or contently the way it began, but more toward hate fuelled by mistrust and anger, finishing in a spectacular show of tears by Harry. He wasn’t sure Draco had shed even one that evening. The fight had been stupid. Harry had met with a producer to see about putting his play on the American Broadway. He had come home late, excited, and absolutely reeking of wine and smoke. 

Draco had over-reacted and said… well, he had said horrible things to Harry, none of which were true. And left. He just left the flat. His clothes were still hanging exactly where they had been hung. His shoes still under the chair in the bedroom. His favourite teacup, clean, sitting beside his copper teakettle. He had left everything, including Harry.

 

Harry sighed as he came back to himself and the loneliness.

For months after, Harry refused to leave the flat. Without his active participation, the deal had not been sealed and his play was now in theatre limbo. Ron and Hermione, along with several mutual friends brought food and cleaned the flat. Harry’s fear of leaving was that when Draco did come back, he would miss him, and miss the chance to make up with him. That had been over three years ago. 

It took almost a year for Harry to try to leave the apartment for any length of time. The longest was to apparate to the grocery story, buy food, and return. Of course, he only did this when Hermione absolutely refused for anyone else to be allowed to do it for him. 

The first thing Harry did upon his return was to check to make sure Draco’s things were still there. Now, three years later, he did the same thing every night.

During the second year of Draco’s absence, Harry started writing again. Fuelled by the manuscript Hermione had bought him, he began to work through his pain by writing scenes of fierce battles and anger. What he should have said, what was actually said. His plays, which he never saw performed, were a raging success. But the author, “James Evans” was a recluse and did not meet the actors nor see the final productions of his work.

This would actually be the first time he had agreed to leave his flat for more than a few hours. His excitement through the month of February kept erupting in the strangest of times. While writing an extremely intense portion of the current work, he laughed out loud at how silly the scene was and rewrote it to show a peaceful discussion of feelings and an incredible “make-up” sex scene he wasn’t sure could be showed in polite society.

The day or the Opening Night, Harry went to a salon for a day of relaxation. He had finished his manuscript and sent it off to the publisher and felt a peace that he had not known since that time on the Astronomy Tower his last year at Hogwart’s. Closing his eyes while he received his massage, he remembered looking down into those perfect grey orbs…

 

_**Equus** _

 

He dressed in his new, tailor made, tuxedo. He only allowed himself a moment to think of what Draco would have said. _”About time, Potter. Never thought I would get you out of those over-large things you called clothes._ With a grin, he apparated to Ron’s home for a Limousine ride to the Gielgud Theatre.

They were there early, just a bit, and found themselves face to face with a poster of a horse. The man playing the lead was a handsome brunette with his eyes closed and turned away while holding the reins of the white horse was stunning. He had a perfect body to be sure.

Harry grinned as Hermione reminded him that he would be meeting that man in person in just a few hours.

As the curtain rose, the silence was overwhelming. Harry was mesmerized by the play. It was his addiction come to life. The actor, about his own just under thirty age, was nothing less than dazzling. Even though the tickets were for front row center, they could not see the shock of the lead actor as his eyes fell to the brunette in the front row. Between the first and second scenes, the actor had rushed off stage and vomited spectacularly. The stage crew had joked with each other about stage fright, given him a bottle of water, and urged him to return to the stage.

His return was greeted by enthusiastic applause. He settled himself into the role of Alan Strang and played each scene as though the audience was not there at all. The end was greeted by a standing ovation. Everyone in the audience stood and applauded, all except one man in the center front row, who sat with tears streaming down his face and a broken heart.

Harry had not, at first recognized the lead actor. Dark hair, obvious months of weight lifting and added pounds, coupled with dark brown contact lenses had first kept his identity a secret. But when he had walked out onto stage in the nude, Harry had no doubts who belonged to that perfect penis. 

Moment by moment, it became clearer to Harry that his beloved Draco was the lead actor in this play. Harry had noticed nothing else. He had not been lost in the play as he had hoped. Instead, he was lost in the man behind the character. His Draco. His Draco performing depraved sexual acts with horses and a woman. His Draco who was now looking at him deflated. Sharing a silent moment in a theater full of admirers and well-wishers. The actor, the man, the absent lover, wanting nothing more than to run and keep running.

 

_**Explanations** _

 

The curtain was finally down. Hermione and Ron had left Harry to go back stage by himself. Both had believed the story that had Harry crying because the play was everything it was meant to be. He sat alone in the quiet dark of the hall, remembering, thinking, questioning.

He did not hear the door open to the hall or the footsteps of the man who was looking down at him. He did not hear the quiet footsteps of the man retreating from the box to come down the stairs and into the hall. He didn’t see the man as he came to stand beside him. He didn’t notice the intruder at all until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Looking to his left, he found himself looking at the only man he had ever loved. The only one who couldn’t trust him. The only one he wanted. His breath hitched, just as it had done on the Astronomy Tower. “Hello Harry” said the man, quietly, almost reverently.

“Why?” was all Harry could manage to ask.

Taking a deep breath, Draco looked into the green, tear filled eyes, of the man he had hurt and left. “I would rather not talk about it here. Care to get a cuppa somewhere?”

“I’m going home Draco. I know you know where it is and if you want to talk, you can go there. I’ll make a cup of tea for you and maybe figure out why I found you like this.” Draco nodded and with a barely audible “crack”, the hall was empty.

 

_**Returning Home** _

 

Harry appeared in his kitchen moments later. He had just started the water to boil when he heard a knock on the door. With a flick of his hand, he opened the door and waited for someone to come in. 

The footsteps in the hall were his. Draco was home. When he turned, Draco was leaning against the doorframe but he wasn’t smiling. In the effort of small talk, Harry complimented his performance. The play was quite incredible. The compliment, however, did not sound convincing as Harry choked back a sob that threatened to escape.

He turned away again as the copper kettle whistled. Carefully, Harry made two cups of tea. Draco’s of course was in his favorite tea cup, while Harry’s was in the mug that they had picked out together at their first vacation after the war when they went to Disney Land for two weeks. Handing the cup to Draco, who recognized it immediately, he received a quiet thank you.

 

They sat in the kitchen, at the same table, in the same places, at which that they had shared so many meals. The effort to not say anything was overwhelming to them both. After almost twenty minutes of silent drinking, Harry finally spoke.

“Seriously, you were amazing in the play.”

“You think so?” Harry nodded. “I have to tell you, that the first time I left the stage, I had just seen you and I vomited all over the side stage.” He seemed relieved to admit it.

“Are you okay now?”

“Yes, I think it was the combination of stage fright, opening night jitters, and…seeing you again.” He paused for a sip of tea. “You look like shite Harry.”

Harry had the sense to be ashamed. “I am okay now. Or I was until I saw you. Two hours of steadily crying and fear will make anyone look bad.”

“Fear? Of what could you possibly be afraid?” Draco leaned his elbows on the table, a habit that he picked up from Harry.

“The same thing I have felt since the day you left me. Of never seeing you again. Of never knowing where you were or why I am still alone. Of sitting with you here at our table and having a perfectly civilized conversation with you, when all I want to do is take you in my arms and apologize and beg you to never leave me again…” he left the rest of the words unsaid. 

Draco let out what could only be called a whistle. “You mean to tell me that there is no one else in your life?” Harry nodded. “But there is in mine.” Harry’s shoulders shrugged with a quiet sob. “I’ve never actually met him, so I feel a bit foolish. His name is James and he is an amazing author. He writes most of the plays I have starred in. I’ve been all over the world and he has yet to see me act.” 

Harry looked up at him in astonishment. “What is his name?” Trying to clear up the misunderstanding.

“James Evans, he is a playwright from New York. His publishing and production company is housed there and I have tried numerous times to meet him.” The excitement was evident, even through a broken heart. He reached his hand to touch Harry’s forearm. “I’m sorry Harry. I handled my jealousy poorly. I know now you were not with anyone else that night. I actually figured it out about eight minutes after I left here that night, but my pride was too strong. I was too arrogant to admit it. To come home. And now, I have to meet this man.”

“Is he the only one? I mean have there been others since you left me?” Harry asked half hoping for a negative response.

“I’d rather not answer that. I have done just a bit of experimentation with women, but no, there has been no other men. I read James’ latest play a week after I had left here, and I was hooked at that time. I auditioned and the manager said I was perfect. His writing is just so full of emotion, and I just… how do I explain this? It was like an outlet for me. I know I hurt you and for that, I should be burned at the stake, but I never expected that you would still be here.” 

Harry met his eyes. “Come with me.” And standing, he led Draco to their bedroom. Harry’s clothes were still in the smaller closet. He opened the larger closet and left it open. He pulled out drawers and drawers of things that belonged to Draco. He walked into the loo and opened the cabinet above the sink, it was full of the things Draco left behind. Harry had not moved any of it.

Draco stared in wonder. “Its all still here?” Harry nodded. “Why did you keep it? I would have banished it to the bottom of the ocean if the tables had been turned.”

“I thought about it, but the one thing I touched, your silk pajamas still smelled like you, and I knew that I loved you enough to wait for you to come to your senses.”

Draco looked around the room one last time, “I have to go. I have to perform every night for the next few weeks, and my contract states that I cannot be out late.” He sat on the edge of the bed. 

Harry looked at him, really studied the man. His hair back to its normal blonde did little to hide the tired eyes and slumped shoulders. He walked across to his one time lover. Gently he sat beside the man on the bed. Pulling gently, they lay back, Harry holding him close. Draco had come home, all would work out later. For now, the men slept in the most peace they had in years.

 

_**The Morning After** _

 

Harry woke the next morning to an empty bed. He took a moment to figure out if it was only a dream, but everything was open in the room and Draco’s scent was still on his pillow. With a smile, he rose and started his day. Now being sure that Draco would return to him, he wrote what would be his greatest play. All for one man, his man, Draco Malfoy.

*******

Across town, Draco was sitting in the producer’s office. “You were out past curfew last night. You know you have to be in your bedroom at eleven o’clock! I don’t care if it was opening night or your mother just died, you will follow the terms of this contract, to the letter, or I will have your understudy take over for you. Are we clear?”

Through gritted teeth, Draco said “Yes, Sir, I understand.” And although he half wanted to let it all go and just return to Harry, he said nothing more before leaving.

*******

Harry bought, at three times the cost, a box for every performance. Draco did not know he was there, or at the least he did not tell anyone what he was doing. 

*******

It was the last week of the show’s run when Draco received an invitation to meet Mr. Evans in person. The reclusive author had heard of his spectacular performance from a mutual friend, and would like to meet him the afternoon after his last performance. He had not seen or heard from Harry again, nor had he tried to contact him. That one night he had spent at home was the best sleep he had in years. And as much as he yearned to return to his arms, he did not do anything that interfered with his performance.

*******

The last show was a Saturday night. Harry had purchased front row center tickets and had convinced Fred Weasley to join him. Fred had glamoured himself to an older gentleman. As soon as Draco saw him sitting with Harry, he knew that this must be Mr. Evans and Harry must have been the mutual friend.

Draco was proud to have been part of such a successful play. He turned down the offer to tour worldwide. The producer offered him not only salary, but a percentage of the box office ticket profit. He declined, stating that his understudy could handle the show.

 

_**Words of Advice** _

 

The following day, Draco arrived early for the luncheon. Mr. Evans entered the restaurant looking every bit as handsome as he had the night before. Harry either had not been invited or he had chosen not to come. 

The two men sat and spoke quietly about their mutual love of theater, interests in life, lost loves, and anything else that crossed their minds. The luncheon lasted several hours, until Draco asked him the question, “Mr. Evans, where do you find your inspiration?”

Leaning back in his seat, his can between his legs, Mr. Evans sighed deeply. The English Aristocrat’s bearing changed deeply. “I had someone in my life many years ago that I loved deeply. I made a mistake of not believing what he said to be true. My pride kept me from returning to his side when I had left. Although I have met others, I have never loved another. I suppose my inspiration comes from that catalyst argument that left two men with broken hearts and too much pride to fix them.” Reaching to take a sip of wine, he continued. 

“You see, when two hearts are full of love, the world moves in a circle. Sometimes that circle has smooth edges, and sometimes there are bumps, but it always remains a circle. I believe, firmly, that had I been smart enough to return home, he would have forgiven me.”

”Did you ever see him again?” Draco asked cautiously.

“Just once, he spent the night, quite by accident. When I woke he was gone. I haven’t seen him since. Of course, so much time has passed, perhaps I would not know him if I were sitting across the table from him.” With a final drink of wine, he stood. “I hope you will continue to find your path through my plays. You are a fine young actor.” 

And with a bit of a limp, leaning heavily on his cane, Mr. James Evans left the restaurant and a stunned man behind sitting alone.

 

_**The Final Act** _

 

_Eighty years in the future_

The house sitting off the long county road with a large porch wrapping around the elegant manor. In the rocking chairs on the front porch sits two elderly men, holding hands.

The children gathered around to hear the story of their great-grandfathers lives. The silver haired lithe figure spoke to the children.

“I sat at that table for maybe another hour, thinking about everything that man had said. I knew that it was my fault that I was not longer with Harry. I also knew that I wanted to be with him very badly. You see, I fell in love with him. Pride be damned,” The children giggled at the word, “I had to find him.”

 

The green-eyed man laughed, “Find me? You came home, threw your arms around me and cried like a baby for hours until you could finally apologize and beg me to take you back and let you come home.”

“So you did forgive him, Grandpapa?” The blue eyed little girl asked.

“Oh yes, I did. And things went well for a few months until my solicitor showed up with mail for Mr. James Evans. It seems as though your grandfather had written him a Thank You note.” With a smirk, Draco laughed. “It worked fine up until then.”

“That was when I figured out that the old man I had lunch with that day was actually your grandpapa and had been glamoured for me to see!”

“Grandpapa, what do you mean worked?” The redheaded little boy asked in awe.

“It means that he outsmarted me and when I finished yelling, I kissed him and asked him to just marry me and get it over with. A year later, your grandmother was born. A year after that your Uncle Thaddeus was born, and the year after that your Auntie Lila was born.” He stopped and thought for a few moments. Turning, he said, “Harry, is that all of them?”

With a grin, Harry said, “No Love, Sirius and Lucas came after that. Then they each grew up, got married and had children who had children. And look Love, those children are here now!” The children giggled at their great grandparents.

Their children and grand children were watching from behind the sitting group, each with smiles having heard the stories so many times. A few of the sons laughed at the cleaner version than each had heard at one time or another after reaching adulthood.

 

As the years passed and the seasons changed, Draco fell more in love with Harry. He was lucky enough to know that the pride that kept them apart for just over three years could have kept them apart forever.

 

****

~~~~fin~~~~


End file.
